Organization doesn’t come easily for a lot of writers. They live in a swirl of documents, some on the computer, others on scraps of paper or cocktail napkins in piles on their desk or the floors. That doesn’t work for me. And to be honest, once you get past the initial creative process where you want a tornado of ideas to hit from every direction, I’m not sure it works for anyone.

I’ve discussed the importance of an outline in at least two prior blog entries, so I’ll spare you a third rendition.  Instead, I want to focus on how to best organize all those ideas and documents, so you not only know what you have, you can actually find it.

First, create a folder for the type of project you’re working on. For example, I have folders titled Articles, Books, Commercial (for media releases, brochures and web copy), Editing and Coaching. Each project or client falling under that category has an individual subfolder. Depending on how involved a project is, I may even subdivide the project itself into sub- subfolders, so that drafts, correspondence, notes, interviews, invoices, etc… are all grouped together and neatly tucked out of the way until I need them. Then, with one click, I can find them all in a single spot.

The key at this point is to know which file I need without having to open it. While that’s not always possible, careful labeling of your file will help. I always start with the person’s last name or the topic. That way if I click on Recent Documents or Open File, I’ll recognize which set of interviews or notes I want at a glance.

I follow the identifying name with an underscore and a word that tells me whether I’m dealing with a contract, a manuscript or something else. This file, for example, is labeled Gross_blog. Or at least it should be. Since I don’t love the name Gross (sorry, Dad), I’ve made an exception and labeled it LG_blog.

If I’m creating a label for an interview of someone other than my primary source, I’ll add a hypen and the name of the person I interviewed, so the file name would look like this: Dream Men_interview-Obama. (I wish!)

After another underscore, I add the date starting with the year. That way if my project spans one, two or more years, the files will continue to be grouped chronologically rather than alphabetically by month. So it looks like: Dream Men_manuscript_2010-06-29.

This system may sound nitpicky, but with a big project it will save you time and help you keep that resolve to curb your swearing.

Just in case you’re joining in late or need a refresher, let me recap my first six rules for writing just about anything before finishing up with Rule #7.

Rule #1:  Just start. Don’t worry about anything but getting words down so you have something to work with.

Rule #2:  Create an outline. It really will help you get where you’re going.

Rule #3:  Break that habit of using the verb “to be” and opt for strong, active verbs instead.

Rule #4:  Power up your prose with active sentence construction.

Rule #5:  Strenthen your writing by avoiding qualifiers like I think or I believe. 

Rule #6:  Bring the reader in by loading up on detail and texture.

And finally …

Rule  #7:  Cut the fat. Tightening your writing by eliminating all those little filler words that don’t enhance meaning adds power to your text.

Wordy:     She was thinking about all this as she wandered along the mountain trails when she stumbled on the hut.

Powerful:  Lost in thought, she stumbled on the mountain hut.

Though it helps to consider these rules when working on your initial draft, they’ll mostly come into play during the editing phase. So put your inner critic on hold until then; otherwise you run the risk of criticism-induced writing paralysis (also known as writer’s block). You’ll have plenty of time to drag out your inner critic/editor once you have a completed draft. Until then, just write!

Most writers routinely break my next two rules.

Rule # 5:   No matter how nervous you are  about going out on a limb, if you’ve done your research then state your position as fact. Qualifiers (such as I think, I feel, I believe, it seems to me) just weaken your argument.

Qualified:   We feel that this is the time to buy.

Strong:        This is the time to buy.

Qualified:   I believe that my family’s story typifies the immigrant experience.

Strong:        My family’s story typifies the immigrant experience.

Rule #6: Go big on detail and texture when writing a story—whether short or long, fiction or non-fiction. You want your reader to feel like a bug on the wall witnessing the experience you’re chronicling, so write in terms of all five senses: sight, sound, feel, smell, taste. Assume that our bug has the ability to read thoughts and pinpoint feelings, and include those as well.

My fourth rule for writing just about anything is one that too many of us forget:

Avoid passive sentences in favor of more vigorous sentence construction.

Passive:   This charming house will save you money.

Active:    Save money and buy this charming house now.

 Passive:  My family’s history is long, extending back to 18^th century Scotland.

Active:    My family’s long history extends back to 18^th century Scotland.

Once you’re cranked out a draft of whatever you’re writing, go back and look for those telltale weak verbs like “to be” or “to have” that we talked about in Rule #3, along with opportunities to bolster anemics sentences by turning them on their heads or using stronger verbs. Though most of us fall into the passive sentence construction trap, opting for active writing will power up your prose and your message.

As you may remember, rule number one for writing just about anything boils down to simply  getting started. Don’t worry about how your piece reads until you have a  solid beginning and a plan for where you’re headed.  That gets us to rule number two, which I’ll keep short since I’ve written already about this at length in a previous blog entry.

Rule #2:    Whether you’re writing a business letter or a novel, create an outline so you know where you’re going—you have a much better chance of getting there that way.

Remember that each paragraph (or chapter) makes a single argument. And each paragraph (or chapter) needs to be linked one to the other.

Think of a train. The locomotive provides the power that pulls the whole thing along. That’s your lead paragraph (or chapter). Each car (or paragraph or chapter) has its own content, which is linked to the car before it and the car after it. Those links are called transitions. The caboose (or conclusion) wraps the whole thing up.

So much for rule number two. Once you have  a handle on the shape and direction of your project, you need to think about language. Though you still don’t want to stress about perfecting your prose at this stage, mastering this next rule will help you sidestep one of the most common writing pitfalls.

Rule #3:   Opt for dynamic action verbs that make your text come alive instead of weak favorites like “to be” or “to have.”

Weak:   There are many great deals out there.

Strong:  Great deals abound.

Weak:  The farmers were fearful that their crop would fail and their family would starve.

Strong:  The farmers feared the potential failure of their crops. Their families would surely starve.

Go ahead and try swapping passive verbs for active ones in your own writing. The impact will surprise you. Besides, seeing your words gain power with one quick edit is downright fun.

Is your business card getting round-filed hours or days after you give it out? If you’re honest with yourself about what you do with most of the business cards you receive, the answer is probably yes. Even if your business card avoids the trash can, in a stack of other business cards it’s basically a calling card with laryngitis. And that does nothing to promote you or your business.

But what if you had a calling card that:

• Actually gets filed on a shelf instead of thrown out
• Establishes you as the go-to person in your field
• Generates media attention

This branding dream-come-true is called a book, and having one with your byline can boost your business’ bottom line.

Just ask Fred Swisher and Sarah Whipple. They had been my landscapers for a year when they decided that they should write a book about landscaping in Central Oregon. The fact that neither had much writing experience beyond promoting their own businesses didn’t matter because they knew that as their writing coach, I would guide them along the way.

The business- and life-partners barely had to write a word during our first session. We just talked about the challenges and advantages of landscaping in an area strewn with volcanic rock where temperatures can drop to below freezing 365 days a year.

Then I asked each to write a Big, Sloppy Letter to Linden, something I ask of almost all my clients. The instructions are simple: “Write anything and everything that pops in your head. Don’t worry about spelling, grammar, repetition, or anything else. It doesn’t matter if your ideas are all over the place. What matters is that you get them all down, so we have something to work from.”

Rather than being daunting, this sort of brain dump can be downright liberating. Instead of worrying about what goes where or how it sounds, you can let your thoughts flood over you and onto the page or the computer screen. Ironically, this stream of consciousness approach leads to prose that lacks the self-consciousness often found in more purposeful writing. That means that much of this sloppy letter material, once organized, winds up being plopped right into your first draft.

Before long, an outline for Fred and Sarah’s book 55 Myths, Tips & Secrets started to take shape. During the writing phase, I worked with Fred and Sarah individually to provide guidance, instruction and encouragement.

When the manuscript was done, I jumped in as editor and gave it a quick polish. Then my company Incubation Press published just enough copies for the advance readers. Based on their comments, minor changes were made to the book copy and quotes were added to the back cover. Fred and Sarah then sent out a second—and then a third—batch of reader copies. Only once we had dealt with the comments and changes that followed did Fred and Sarah order in any quantity.

55 Myths, Tips & Secrets allowed Fred and Sarah to establish themselves as the local landscapers, since they were the authors of a book about landscaping in the area. They built on that reputation with presentations to everyone from homeowner and business associations to horticultural gatherings. Their book also triggered a number of newspaper and magazine articles—along with a couple of television appearances. And all of that helped sales. “Customer and media response to 55 Myths, Tips and Secrets have been beyond our wildest expectations,” says Fred. “The book is directly responsible for generating most of our business last year.”

People often assume that hiring a writing coach implies that you’re incapable of writing on your own and need someone to hold your hand. That may be true, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But a writing coach relationship extends way beyond encouraging you, holding you accountable or even teaching you about the craft of writing. It’s like having a partner on your creative team who has managed to retain the perspective that can so easily be lost when immersed in a big project. As the writer, you’re in the trees by definition. Your writing coach still has a sense of the forest as a whole.

Not all writing coaches are created equal, however, and not all coaches and writers are a good match.

How do you choose a writing coach who will work for you?

First, you want to find one who shares your vision. That’s why I always suggest that clients who have already been writing hire me to critique their work before they bring me on as their writing coach. I read through their material and write a memo detailing my sense of what works, what doesn’t and what needs to be done. If they agree with my analysis, we not only know we’re on the same page, we have a plan of action. If they don’t, they’ve saved themselves a lot of time and frustration.

Second, you want to find a writing coach who fulfills your needs. Just as no two writers work the same way, writing coaches have different styles. I’ve heard of some who don’t even read what their clients write, which puzzles me to no end. That’s like writing about food that you don’t taste.

I tend to treat my clients the way I do my friends, offering an ear, feedback, encouragement and an occasional reality check when absolutely necessary. And though each writer has his or her strengths and weaknesses that need to be addressed in a manner befitting the person and the situation, there’s one piece of advice that I give each and every one of my clients: Quit judging yourself and your work so harshly.

I believe that a writing coach should:

• Critique pages you’ve already written and provide ongoing feedback re: the growing pile of new ones;
• Help you organize your thoughts, enrich your work and find your voice—whether you’re just beginning or have a full draft;
• Facilitate your project’s development, including brainstorming about ideas, story arc, plot, character development and more;
• Help you design a realistic schedule and hold you accountable to target goals and dates;
• Keep you motivated and focused;
• Give you perspective when you become derailed or discouraged;
• Provide writing tips to help you focus as you work on your next installment;
• Direct your rewrite(s)—a fact of life for every writer, no matter how experienced;
• Guide you through the publishing (or self-publishing) maze, including helping you find the right market, and assisting with query letters, book proposals and marketing once your work gets published;
• Encourage you every step of the way.

That’s what I do.

These days, the publishers’ buzz word is platform, which means that writers have to bring to the table an audience they’ve built up through giving speeches, conducting workshops, writing articles or columns, or having a visible web presence. In short, in addition to doing the writing, editing and marketing, today’s authors now have to sell their books as well. All this in exchange for an often pitifully small advance and the prospect of equally small royalties should their book make back its advance, which most never do. That explains why I often recommend self-publishing to the writers I coach. If they’re going to do all the work anyway, why not reap all the profits?

Of course, not everyone who writes feels need to publish professionally. With print on demand (POD) publishing, individuals who want to chronicle their life stories, share their family recipes or create an anthology of their personal poetry can publish just enough copies for friends and family.

However, PODs are not all created equal. When choosing a POD, consider the following:

• Is personalized attention or economy more important? If price is the bottom line, you might want to go with one of the larger PODs, where you fill in a form, follow instructions, hand over your money and get your books. If, on the other hand, you want to be able to talk about the book that you care so much about and control how the book is actually published, a small POD like Incubation Press might make more sense.
• Make sure you understand the deal. Some PODs will print your book, but retain the rights. You want to retain 100 percent of your book’s rights.
• Understand the difference between POD and a vanity or subsidy press. With a subsidy press, you subsidize the full cost to publish your book, but the press actually owns the book. So you wind up settling for a royalty for each book sold (i.e.: a percentage of the profit). Vanity presses generally charge a single, supposedly all inclusive price (usually in the thousands), but often the editing is sketchy and the promised promotion and distribution negligible.
• What are you getting for the money? Print and paper quality varies hugely. In addition to ordering a proof to make sure that your books meet your expectations, educate yourself about paper options. I warn you, they’re confusing. You’ll find my blog entry called Paper Primer in the archives. I hope that helps.

Why do so many people try to write without an outline? In most cases, it just doesn’t make sense. Say you want to drive from San Francisco to Manhattan. You know that you have to head east, so you jump in your car and start driving. You may eventually reach your destination without consulting a map, but you’re sure going to waste a lot of time and gas with all the wrong turns along the way.

Writing is no different. And yet so many writers—whether experienced authors or novices—plunge in with only a vague idea of their destination, and no plan for how to actually get there. When they eventually reach a dead end or get hopelessly lost somewhere around Nebraska, they finally realize they need a roadmap.

Whether you’ve written lots of pages or are just embarking on a project, two analogies can help explain the proper structure of an outline.

1)      Picture a train. The locomotive (or introduction) pulls the various cars (independent ideas) which are linked together (with transitions), and followed up with the caboose (the conclusion).

2)      Thinking about a lawyer in court also helps. The lawyer—or writer—states the case (the introduction), makes the case (the body of the piece), and sums up the case (the conclusion).

So how you do get from a mess of ideas to the point where you have an outline, particularly if you don’t think in a very linear manner?

• Start by jotting down all your ideas. You can even try using a mind map to spark new ideas and make interesting connections.
• Group all the ideas that seem to be related into categories, then determine how those categories relate to one another.
• Sort all the material that you’ve written—even the odd sentence that’s been scribbled on a scrap of paper—into groups, then determine which idea category each group falls into.
• Creating a new idea category for any group of material that doesn’t fit into the list, and relate it to the others.
• Organize your idea categories into a list and write a topic sentence for each.
• Find—and write—the transitions that link one category to another.
• Write the topic sentences that set forth your case (i.e.: the introduction), and that sum it up (i.e.: your conclusion).

All too often, the problem that stymies writers isn’t one of writing, but one of thinking. Whether you’re setting forth to write an article or a book, making the effort to outline the work once you have enough background information to work with will save time and aggravation, and help ensure that you actually end up where you want to go.

Writers crack me up. We’re so insecure, we wonder if we’re good enough to be coached. When we get past that, we think we have to perfect first draft copy before letting a writing coach see it. That makes about as much sense as cleaning your house before the maid comes. Of course, I’m guilty on the latter count.

Still, next time your writing coach tells you that she just wants to see a brain dump on paper or a first draft, don’t think that she’s expecting polished copy. She’s not. Really.

First drafts are supposed to be messy. Refiining your prose as you go makes no sense. By the time you’re done with your project, that page or paragraph that you slaved over may have been wiped out with the click of a mouse. Why would anyone want to spend time polishing text that may not even make the final cut? 

So hold off on any serious rewriting until you’ve hit the end of your project and have decided what goes and what stays. And if that’s not what your writing coach recommends, well, I would beg to differ.